


Trace of Silver

by Luxie



Series: The Lion of Azeroth and the Mage Named Trust [2]
Category: Warcraft (2016), Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M, Scars
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 19:19:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7476621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luxie/pseuds/Luxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A short follow-up to Power of the Twilight from Khadgar's pov.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trace of Silver

Lothar has scars.

Some must have been deep cuts, like the red line marring the outside of his thigh, while others are just badly healed, like the silvery patterns from ragged claw marks on his hip. There is a burn on his neck and a mark from an arrow that pierced his left shoulder blade. Khadgar counts at least six that should have been serious enough to take the warrior's life and asks teasingly, before pressing his mouth to Lothar's, if the warrior had made it through on pure spite.

They both know the truth, though; that Lothar, like other heroes, are simply favored by the Light. A fool would call it a blessing, and Khadgar used to be just such a fool - young, blinded by the power of the Arcane and his own brilliance. He had thought – stupidly – that having his own life cut short would be the worst thing there was, simply because he had never known what it meant to have someone ripped out of your life by the cruel hands of death.

Lothar, on the other hand, knows the feeling too well. He has seen friends and loved ones die, some in his arms. Yet Lothar lives on. He has suffered wounds by swords and arrows, broken and crushed bones, dark spells and poisons. And yet he lives. By the will of the Light Lothar lives on, will live on for many battles to come, until one day the Light is done with him. The curse of it is that Lothar will never know when that day is, nor will he ever know why he has been chosen to live while his comrades and friends, fighting and dying bravely by his side, have not.

Khadgar traces every silvery scar with the tips of trembling fingers, lets his lips linger to soothe the long-gone pain. He can't be a part of Lothar's past, can't undo the wounds he's suffered, but he can let himself be what Lothar needs right now to heal the stinging wound of betrayal and loss. The loss of his son, of his King, of his once best friend; Such a grief should be enough to dull a heart and turn a man cold, but as Lothar moves inside him Khadgar knows he has never been with anyone so alive.

Lothar is not gentle, but Khadgar doesn't want him to be. Passion drips from everything Lothar does, from the way he drinks to the way he fights, and this is no exception. The warrior is fueled by his emotions in a way that Khadgar, level-headed and book-smart, can't possibly relate to, but the way Lothar looks at him now, his ponytail in disarray and his eyes dark with lust, is enough to make Khadgar surrender to his own lust.

It's a summer's night in Stormwind and the setting sun drapes its colors over the rooftops. Lothar laces their fingers together over Khadgar's head, uses his position and strength to keep Khadgar's hands pressed to the floor as he moves faster. It's desperation and need, and Khadgar moans with every thrust. Lothar's mouth is on his bared throat, breath hot and moist against his skin and soon they are tumbling over the edge, heartbeats apart.

As twilight falls around them Khadgar's spell finishes, the cyan light of his runes reflecting in the cooling sweat on their skin. One rune catches Khadgar's eye, a simple spiral used for common heartstones. Home, it means and Khadgar feels, for the first time in his life, that he understands its meaning.

 


End file.
